The Ex-traction Trio
by Wishful.Thinker.808
Summary: The Ex-traction Trio: a group dedicated to the eradication of annoying ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends. When a mysterious, cussing client calls with a stalker, the trio immediately responds. However, the case proves to be more risky than what was originally assumed, with an unexpected romance blooming and an undercurrent of violence. Rated for language. Art belongs to artist.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, fellow fanfictioners!**

**This is the second story that I have had the pleasure to upload. Don't worry, _Forbidden Tomatoes_ will be updated with a second chapter, but this just had to be written down. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I hope this one will be met with the same amount of enthusiasm. Enjoy!**

**I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers, nor the wonderful artwork used as the cover.**

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"You have reached the Ex-traction Trio. Who's your stalker?" Yep, that's us. The Ex-traction Trio. You have a creepy ex-boyfriend with a personal space problem? How about a freaky ex-girlfriend that has recently discovered the combination to the lock on your bedroom door, the lock installed after you dumped said crazy female? That's where we come in. We are, simply, a group of three guys equipped with the skills to help all you Dumpers with your vengeful Dumpees.

"My sister has become quite...umm, affectionate towards me." Uh oh, not another sibling catastrophe. We just had one of these last week with a enthusiastically touchy-feely South Korean and his stingy Chinese brother; talk about awkward.

''We completely understand. How serious is the issue?'' Common procedure: discover the severity of the stalking, assess different solutions to the problem, and then take action. A piece of cake, in our not-so-professional opinion. However, the sudden crash over the phone and the ominous whisperings that followed were completely unexpected. "Marry me. Marry me. _ Marry me. MARRY ME, BROTHER DEAR!"_

"_Amigo_, run for _tu vida_!''

''Get your unawesome ass outta there!''

''For the love of _l'amour_, I fear for your sanity!"

We are afraid to say that the poor fellow was never able to take into account such wise words of advice. A strange crackling was all that remained of the phone call, as if someone had taken a large knife and murdered the defenseless telephone.

"Well, that was certainly unexpected,'' one of us voiced, and the others quickly agreed. This was a Code 2 matter, one requiring a fair amount of caution and quick response. ''Code 2?'' you ask. Our apologies for not explaining the Scale of the Ex earlier. This ingenious and most brilliant Scale of the Ex has been established as the following:

**Code 1:** A mild case of Ex vengeance, with the victim merely being pursued by the Ex. There are no serious concerns, just an overly nosy Ex to eliminate.  
**Violence:** None  
**State of Ex:** Unable to let go of the fact that they were Dumped, and still wishes to reunite with former partner. Feelings of depression and very slight anger.  
**Recommended Solution: **Bring Dumper and Dumpee together to discuss relationship. A simple heart-to-heart talk may clear up the issue. If this is not the case, physical restraining of the Ex is acceptable.

**Code 2:** A more serious case of Ex vengeance, with the victim being both stalked and hassled by the Ex. There are possible concerns, such as mild sexual harassment and/or abuse.  
**Violence:** Lesser attacks with minor injuries sustained  
**State of Ex:** Possessive over Dumper; has delusions of ownership over Dumper. Thinking as if Dumper is merely denying his or her love for Ex. Denial of rejection, perhaps due to unpleasant past experiences. Feelings of anger, protectiveness, and lust.  
**Recommended Solution:** Quickly restrain Ex and use any means necessary to rid Ex of delusions. Once understanding of situation, Ex will generally let of repressed anger. If this is not the case, the use of certain _influential_ techniques is acceptable.

**Code 3: **The most serious case of Ex vengeance, with the victim being forced through a personal hell at the Ex's command. Murder is possibly imminent if not taken care of immediately.  
**Violence:** Mental or physical torture with major injuries sustained  
**State of Ex: **Could be subject to mental illness or severe amorality. No concern for humanity, for Dumper is just a plaything in the hands of a puppeteer. Severe rage over rejection, causing Ex to inflict as much pain on Dumper as physically possible. Feelings of extreme hatred, sadistic pleasure, and brutality.  
**Recommended Solution:** Retrieve Dumper from hands of Ex and call police. Such a severe case is out of the hands of the Ex-termination Trio, and should be given to those of a higher authority.

Many of the victims who call are within the Code 1 category, but quite a few others meet the Code 2 criteria. We have yet to see a Code 3, and would prefer to keep it that way.

"Ex-traction Trio. Awesomeness personified speaking. Who's the unawesome creeper?'' The derogatory term for the Ex tended to change, depending on who got to the phone first. This one was...well, let's just say that the other members try to get to the phone before this particular egotistical idiot.

Pause.''...Dammit, wrong number." Whoever was on the line quickly hung up.

''_You self-proclaiming idiota! You just lost us a customer!_''

''But he just said wrong number! _Dummkopf, _it was just a mistake!"

"_Sacre Bleu, he hung up because of your moronic narcissism!''_ However, the petty squabbling was soon broken up by the telephone ringing once more. This time, one of the other members, _not_ the egotistical imbecile, ran to the phone to answer.

"Ex-traction Trio speaking. Who's the savage yet passionate pursuer of _l'amour_ that should be eradicated?''

Another pause. "_Mio Dio_, you're creepy too. Isn't this group supposed to get rid of stalkers? 'Cause the two brainless twits who picked up the damned phone the last two times sure as hell sounded like creeps to me." The third and more sensible* of the trio then stole the call from his companions, trying to salvage the prospect of yet an additional client. "I'm terribly sorry for the inconveniences of the others. We really do want to offer our assistance in this situation " The client snorted over the connection, but the Trio member was not so easily discouraged. "_Quiero ayudar, mi amigo_''

"_Imbecille_. I'm Italian, not freakin' Spanish," the voice mocked, "But I'll pretend to understand what the hell you just said and move on." Here the voice, we assume male, hesitated as if in doubt. A resigned sigh from over the phone then broke the deafening silence. ''I have a stalker.''

''Well, no offense, dude, but we kinda figured that,'' the egotistical idiot piped in.

"_Oui, monsieur,_ he does bring up a valid point. We are a stalker-extermination trio, after all." By this time, the call was put on speaker, making all these demeaning comments from the trio's peanut gallery plainly audible to the client.

''Oi, stuff it, Frenchie. All I want is to do is to castrate this sucker of an Ex, but I already have enough problems to deal with right now. So, just get rid of this guy, _capisci?_'' The voice was harsh and demanding, but a tone of slight uncertainty wove its way into the male's words.

The trio glanced at each other with silent inquisition. The sensible one with the phone still cradled it in his hand shrugged and gave a half-hearted grin of acceptance, while the narcissistic moron enthusiastically threw the others a thumbs-up. The third, more flamboyant of the three seemed to contemplate the male's plight with deep concentration before chuckling and holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ''We agree with your request, _mon lapin_. We will help you with this stalker of yours"

''Really?" the voice asked, barely betraying the sound of hope. "I mean, of course you would, assholes.''

"_Fantástico,_'' the Spaniard breathed. ''Now all we have to do is determine the severity of your case-" But the voice had already hung up, yet again pulling the trio into a pit of despair.

"Now what the crap are goin' to do? We have no idea what this freaky Ex is capable of!''

''I'm sure its perfectly alright, my dear. We are quite able to handle such a case, for it's most likely a Code 1 or possibly a Code 2 situation. Code 3 Exes are handled by the police; people never come to us about that.'' The male flipped his blond locks and turned to the third member. "Am I right, my silent friend? You are still holding the phone. He's hung up, you know."

The addressed man suddenly started as if waking from a daydream of bountiful tomato fields. He weakly laughed as he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. ''I know, it's just.." his words trailed off as he placed the phone back onto its receiver. "Do you guys mind if I work on this case alone?'' The other two drew back in surprise, but the man held his hand up to stop any attempts of interruption. ''I know that such a split of the trio is unprecedented, but we also have that other sibling matter. We can't afford to get behind.''

The egotist propped his feet on the coffee table in utter disinterest. "Sure, dude. Whatever floats your boat. As long as I get to use my awesome fighting skills to beat the crap outta somebody." The blonde, however, looked quite disconcerted with the present arrangements. ''Are you completely sure, _mon cher_? It could be dangerous flying solo, especially when the Code has not been addressed.''

The other brightly grinned, his smile lighting the dismal aura surrounding his French friend. "I'll be fine. You worry too much.''

"Well," the distressed man conceded, albeit reluctant still, ''if you insist.'' He grabbed the ''awesome'' friend from the patent leather couch and shooed him out the door, calling behind him. "Adieu, _mon ami_! Stay safe, and stay single!" He winked seductively before softly closing the door to the world of the city. Muffled cries reverberated against the windows, no doubt the protests of the blonde's new hostage. ''See ya, sucker! Don't kick too much ass without me! Ow, let go of me, _dummkopf_!''

The last remaining member of the trio lightly chortled at his friends' antics before gathering his coat and preparing to leave on his mission as well. Emerald eyes fell upon the plain black telephone, and the joyous expression faded from his face as sunshine is hidden by a rebellious cloud. _Something isn't quite right about this case. His voice seemed...distant somehow, as if he were trying to detach himself from the pain by creating a facade of ill-temper. I know that such a case is going to be at least a 2, or possibly a 3-quite the challenge. _Such thoughts swirled around in the man's mind, but he refused to let petty worries weaken his resolve. Steeling his nerves, he walked through the entryway to the bright, bustling life of the city. As he locked the door behind him, the man could only feel as if some part of himself was being locked away as well. _Perhaps this voice might have the key to relieve me of this suffering._

And so the Ex-termination Trio departed to their different destinations, each contemplating a matter of importance. The egotistical idiot attempted to calculate the number of beer bottles he could possibly fit under his bed without his brother's notice, while his more ostentatious companion sought the perfect way to woo that one pretty female across the street. The last, more cheerful male had his mindset focused on that particular victim with a habit of overusing profanity in everyday conversation. All three are formidable foes of the malevolent Ex. All three are on a mission.

Their name is The Bad Touch Trio.

.

.

.

Just in case you were wondering.

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*When compared to his friends, Antonio is the sensible one of the Bad Touch Trio. While Francis is occupied with wooing all the women he can find and Gilbert is intoxicated with beer, Antonio is calmly assessing the situation. Even though he may not be able to read the atmosphere, he is very good at focusing on the current mission.

**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I have a lot in store, so don't go just yet. Reviews would be lovely! I would love to hear any input, mistakes, or advice to improve this story. You are just a click away from making this author very happy.**

**Ciao!**


	2. Chapter 2-The First Meeting

**Hello fellow fanfictioners!**

**Im so sorry for the late update! Things have been hectic, from tech week for a play, to tons of tests and homework. I appreciate all the reviews and attention this work has received already. You guys are the people keeping me going, so thank you so much! You are all truly inspiring to this amateur writer. **

**This chapter is quite a bit longer, and a little more serious, but still amusing (I hope). And I hope this Spanish is correct.**

**Every review helps! Comments, criticism, improvements that should be made...they are assist me in making this story better for you.**

**Now, to the real reason why you clicked on this story. Enjoy!**

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The weather in the city was dismal, Antonio concluded. The clouds hung heavily in the sky, looming overhead as they released their salty tears. Such rain fell upon the imposing skyscrapers and made soft melodies as the drops hit the pavement, the wind whistling in slight harmony. A sense of deep coldness permeated the streets, roads heated by the exhaust from the infinite stream of taxis. Crowds surged past on the sidewalks, an unleashed animal with the roar of several thousand voices and a fear of being tardy for one appointment or another. The horns of the traffic shouted in great impatience, while tires screeched with exasperation against the asphalt. Street musicians attempted to pacify the setting's clamor with a taste of gentle song, yet the dissonant voices of the city were not to be so easily calmed.

Still, all the ugliness of the metropolitan scene can be overlooked if one simply listened to its underlying music, the heartbeat of the urban culture. The hushed pattering of the raindrops provided for the tender percussion beat, while the strumming of a street musician's guitar introduced the fair melodic strains. The tumbling breeze brought tones of comparative beauty, flowing with the guitar effortlessly in a mellow _pas de deux._ The automobile horns trumpeted bold feelings with their instruments of brass beneath the hood, while the screams of the tires acted as applause. The populace, no longer untamed, came on the streets came to listen to the music of the city, as the perfect audience is drawn to the source of sound. Just for a little while, they were able to forget all their worries and just enjoy the wonder that is life.

Antonio closed his eyes and simply listened, his body slightly swaying to and fro in perfect time. He blissfully smiled at the scene that lay behind his eyelids, a glorious sunset with jeweled hues of red, orange, and pink. A field of tomatoes basked in the dying rays of light, and shining stars began to dot the east horizon with the arrival of twilight. The only flaw was the loneliness, the lack of that _someone else_ that should have been sitting right next to him. He felt like the moon, who was forced to hide in shame in the dark of night, never allowed to see her precious sun in the light of day.

Of this Antonio pondered, eyes still closed as he tried to keep hold of that calming sunset to ward of his sense of solitude. He was failing miserably, especially when another body rammed into him.

Antonio fell backwards, letting out a small _oof_ before looking up at his accidental assailant. The man was obviously Mediterranean, with his tanned skin and chocolate hair. Amber eyes were narrowed in irritation, and his mouth formed words that were quite insulting, of which Antonio had no doubt. Of course, the Spaniard wouldn't know, seeing as he was too stunned by the male's physique to ask him to repeat his statement before the man ran off.

"Well, that was unexpected," Antonio muttered, slowly getting to feet and gazing at the direction in which the man escaped. "Él fue extraño." Then he thought a moment, a smirk appearing. "Y lindo." With that, he set off again, making his way through the bustling city crowds.

It only took an hour for Antonio to realize that he should have probably asked the client where he wanted to meet before going out on this mission to find the stalked man. He brushed it off, hoping that luck might be on his side, sending him crashing into the exact man that he was supposed to help. However, as soon as Lady Luck saw the sheer amount of people on the streets, she said, ''screw it," and left Antonio to his own devices; the number of city dwellers was too high for her to waste time looking for one stalked man. To add to her troubles, far too many humans were getting broken legs in her name for her to worry about some insignificant wish. "Good luck. Break a leg..." Seriously? Who came up with that one?

So, without the aid of the unenthusiastic bearer of good fortune, Antonio straggled around the streets, searching the faces of all who passed for that one person that made something spark within him, saying that this was the one he was to help. A saddened expression, shoulders slumped in despair, hidden tears at the corner of bright eyes-that was all he needed to see. However, no such signs made themselves known, and Antonio was forced to give up his search in favor of getting home, gathering information about a meeting place with the client, and try to complete the mission another day. Antonio crossed his fingers and wished the client would choose a café to discuss the creeper issue; he had always been partial to the warm aroma of coffee, and some hot _café con leche_ was sure to lighten the atmosphere of the stalking case.

The Women of Weather seemed to be impatient at the Spaniard's leaden pace home, and decided, unlike Lady Luck, that they should intervene. Thunder suddenly crackled overhead, and winds blew in from the east, carrying a downpour of rain in their vaporous arms.

''_Ay, caramba_,'' Antonio muttered, flicking up the collar of his coat to shield his face from the brusquely driving air. His efforts were quite wasted in the face of the shower, to be honest. The wind was constantly pushing away his shield of polyester coat, and the rain then took the opportunity to pelt him with cold dihydrogen monoxide. Puddles of dirty moisture dampened his pants, while the spray from automobiles obscured his vision. "This is ridiculous," Antonio whispered to himself, ducking underneath the nearest archway. Another person had already had the sense to do so, and upon seeing the newcomer, said a quick "hello."

''_Hola,_'' Antonio replied, wiping the rain from his face. "Great weather, huh?''

The other occupant grinned. "Yeah, dude. Pretty nasty, if you ask me." His blond hair shimmered with small droplets as he extended his hand. ''I'm Alfred, by the way."

Antonio took the offered introduction and grasped the Alfred's hand, noting the firm grip. The young man was dressed in a ragged white shirt and jeans with several holes, holes that were not a part of the original jean design. Converse shoes adorned the tall man's feet, and an old bomber jacket, World War Two era, hung over his shoulders. It looked as if Alfred had been living on the streets for a short while, for his clothes were very rumpled and his face was beginning to have that lost expression of one without a home. He hid the despairing emotion well from his face, the Spaniard noted, but his bright blue eyes were dim and eyelashes glimmered with tears long unshed. "So,'' Alfred asked, attempting to break the deep silence that had befallen the two. "What'cha been doin' to be caught up in this crap?"

"I'm looking for a client of mine, but I forgot to get an appointment," Antonio replied, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. Alfred only laughed. "That sounds like something that I would do."

"_Sí, _it was pretty stupid of me. And I was really looking forward to it too; he seemed like an interesting fellow.'' Antonio turned away to the view of the of the misty street, glancing at the other from the corner of his eye. "Much like you, _mi amigo. _Why are you here?''

"I'm just trying to stay out of the rain, like you. It's raining bullets out there,'' Alfred answered, putting his hands casually in his threadbare pockets. He bit his lip, betraying a sense of discomfort. Antonio shook his head before turning to face the American. ''I expected that answer, but that isn't what I wanted to know. _Why _are you here, not what are you doing here. I know that you are avoiding the rain-who wouldn't? As you so accurately said, its 'raining bullets.' But that outfit certainly isn't suited for this weather, and the state of it is horrific.'' He grimaced at the state of the ragged clothes, then stared into Alfred's blue eyes. ''So, why are you really out here, Alfred? I need to know, for my sake...and yours."

Alfred sighed sadly, his fake smile disappearing like the sun behind swift clouds. ''How come everyone always asks the hard questions? I don't really know why I'm here. I just found myself wandering the streets a few days ago, I guess. I had a few personal problems that I just ran away from. It was cowardly, I know, but what could I have done?''

Antonio didn't have the faintest idea of how to respond to such a question, seeing how he was uncomfortable in pushing the young man into revealing the source of his misfortunes. Yet one small hint of uncertainty in the boy's voice when he mentioned the date was enough to give small concern. ''Alfred, do you happen to know the day? I seemed to have left my watch at home.'' Antonio might have easily looked at his phone, but he wanted to discover how long the American had really been living on the streets.

America paused before answering. ''It's the 12th, right? I remember seeing the newspaper had the 7th written for the heading on the day I left.'' At this, the Spaniard bit the inside of his cheek; his hunch had been right. "It's not the 12th, _mi amigo_. Today is the 22th.''

''No way, you're kidding,'' Alfred gasped, utterly shocked. ''I can't have been gone for over two weeks. That's impossible!'' He fell against the wall of the arch and slid down the bricks, suddenly drained. ''He must think I'm dead...''

''He?'' Antonio asked, unable to withhold his interest. A man with such pain-filled eyes and a broken smile drew curiosity as well as sympathy. Blond hair fell into Alfred's face as he looked down to drag his hand through a puddle; the water was misty with small leaves floating about like little boats, blown about by the gusty wind. Alfred thought it was appropriate. He felt so confused, thrown every which way by forces he could not control, barely staying above the surface of insanity. Grabbing a leaf with lithe fingers, Alfred studied it, observing its bright green hue before frowning and tearing it to pieces. He hated green, _hated it. _It was just so cruel a color, so harsh, so...

''_Him_,'' Alfred whispered. ''_It's just so him._'' He then fell silent, preferring to trace unidentifiable patterns in the water rather than clarify his thoughts. Realizing that Alfred would reveal no more, Antonio put up the collar of his coat once more and prepared to make his exit. He truly wanted to help Alfred, but the young man had not given him enough information to do so. But, still, there was one thing he could do.

''Here,'' he said, holding out a card to the other. ''My card. If you need any help or anything, you can just reach me here.'' Alfred woke from his stupor, taking the card and reading it. "What does it mean, ''Ex-traction Trio''? Is that some kind of a business?'' he asked.

Antonio laughed. ''_Pues_, you could say that. Two of _mis amigos y yo_ created a group that helps those with relationship problems, like a creeper ex-boyfriend or something of the like. It's pretty interesting, and it keeps the other two from wrecking too much havoc. Who knows, I might even find my own special someone in the process.'' This caused Alfred to snort and say, ''Maybe. Love is pretty stupid, though, so I wouldn't bet on it.''

''Hmm? _Lo siento_, I didn't hear you.''

''Never mind,'' the American replied. ''Just talking to myself.'' He craned his neck to get a better view of the street. "The rain seems to have slowed for a little bit. You might want to head out before it gets bad again.''

''Oh, really?'' Antonio checked for himself, confirming the former's statement; the rain was much lighter than previously. "You're right. I should probably go. It's been nice talking with you, though.'' He held out his hand, and Alfred shook it once he got to his feet. ''Yeah, dude,'' he replied. ''Thanks for killing off the loneliness for a bit. It's just so darned boring out here.''

''_Sí_, it was my pleasure.'' Antonio straightened his shoulders in preparation to brave the storm and walked forward. As a parting word, he added, "If you ever need help, you know where to call me.'' Then he disappeared.

Alfred, alone and now acutely aware of the impending chill in the air, looked at the small piece of paper as a distraction. "Kinda late now,'' he murmured, ''isn't it, Arthur?'' Small raindrops dropped from the sky in response, gliding along his hair before trailing down his cheeks. He flinched at the wetness and gently pressed a finger to his face, frowning as his own tears joined those of the clouds. "Haven't I cried enough already?'' he chuckled darkly. "Why can't I just stop?'' Filled with sudden fury, he slammed his fists against the brick and watched as the crimson blood from his hands, _hands that once held his_, mixed with the clear rain. _He always liked the rain, said it reminded him of London._ ''Why can't it stop?'' The blood made faint swirls in the water, glittering ruby red, _just like the roses he always loved. _The little floating leaves, _as green as his eyes_, were still bobbing along, unaware of the blood in their seas. He stomped a foot down, drowning them all.

"Why...?"

Antonio hurried along the sidewalk, curled in on himself in order to keep out the worst of the cold and wet. He prayed that he might be spared any sickness as he trudged along, for both his friends were horrible caretakers. Gilbert was frequently drunk, thus feeding him vodka shots with his medicine or forgetting about him altogether come the morning hangover. The option of Francis was just as horrible; the Frenchman would always pursue the ''ways of love'' when Antonio was incapacitated and unable to defend himself against the blonde's whims. His friends meant well, Antonio knew for certain, yet their unique natures often clouded their sound judgment.

The setting slowly slipped by as Antonio walked along, apartments joining with skyscrapers to create a seamless canvas of urban backdrop. The rain continued to pound against the asphalt and drenched him in an endless downpour. As the door to his shared flat came into sight, he cheered and proceeded to dance in victory. Screw those dirty puddles-he was wet already, and a little more splashing water from his jumping wouldn't hurt. He soon continued on his way, a little breathless but joyful in seeing that the end was near. As he neared his door, however, a shadow made itself visible to him; it was sitting underneath the narrow awning of the apartment, barely sheltered from the downpour.

''Hello?'' Antonio asked as he walked up to the body and poked it with a hesitant finger. "Are you alright?'' The shadow uncurled itself with a large yawn, revealing its gender to be that of a young man. His fingers were long and refined as they reached toward the clouds, caught in a feline stretch, and his body proved to be lithe and petit as he finally stood in a graceful fashion. He looked up at the Spaniard, his mouth in a pout and his familiar amber eyes hardening in distaste. "You're late, _idiota._''

Antonio, stunned by the man's second appearance, could hardly form a coherent sentence in reply. ''I-I didn't know we had an appointment. _Lo siento._'' He held up his arms in a gesture of surrender.

''Well, you have one now.'' The other man brusquely held out a hand for Antonio to shake, and once the Spanish man did so, the smaller of the two smirked. "Lovino Vargas, resident stalked boyfriend. The pleasure is all yours, _bastardo._''

Antonio couldn't help but grin at his companion's brazen attitude. So this was the client he was searching for; no wonder he was being stalked-he was so _cute_. ''Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, resident Ex-terminator. _Eres tan lindo._'' Antonio knew such words were brash, and his following wink unnecessary, but he always liked to size up his clients before assisting them in solving the issue; he assumed that this man was simply unresponsive to any attempts at love, thus making an Ex desperate to gain his approval. Yet to his complete astonishment, Lovino reddened considerably and ripped his hand from the handshake , storming up to the apartment door and furiously fiddling with the lock. It was a fruitless endeavor, in Antonio's humble opinion, as the door was firmly bolted, with the only key being in Antonio's back pocket. Therefore, Antonio took this precious time to fully analyze Lovino.

He was obviously Italian, for his lilting accent and acute fashion sense could only be identified with one culture. As noticed before, he was neither tall nor bulky, but of average height with slightly defined muscles on his slender limbs. Every article of clothing was designer, from his crimson silk button down to his fitted black jeans. Even his leather boots, roughed up and well-worn, seemed to ooze sophistication and style. The red of the shirt complemented his olive skin very well, making the flawless body glow with a certain kind of splendor. His deep brown hair, only slightly damp from the rain, shined brightly under the awning light, while a peculiar curl bounced in time with Lovino's efforts to open the door. It seemed so unnecessary, that curl, yet it invoked a kind of curiosity in Antonio that made him want to pull it. However, it wasn't just the curl that sparked his interest; the entirety of Lovino Vargas instantly entranced Antonio, making him gravitate toward the other.

Antonio was still lost in his thoughts when Lovino threw open the door with a slam. Wiping a hand dramatically across his forehead in a release of exasperation, he turned around. ''Your door is fucking stupid, _bischero_. Get a new one.''

''H-how did you open it?'' Antonio spluttered, putting his calloused hands on his slim hips in suspicion. Then, in a fit of genius, he immediately checked his back pocket, only to find the key faintly twinkling in the chuckling Italian's hand. "Looking for this?'' Lovino asked cheekily.

Antonio frowned. ''How-'' he said, his lack of atmospheric senses hindering his mental process. ''Wait, did you just pickpocket me?'' At this, Lovino face palmed. How dense could this guy get? "Obviously, stupid. How else would I get the fucking key?''

Assembling his thoughts, the former serenely stood at the edge of the granite steps before blinking in confusion. ''Wasn't the key was in my back pocket?'' he asked, and when Lovino nodded in affirmation, he continued. A small smile played at the edge of his lips as he realized the situation that had occurred without his knowing. ''So, in order to get the key, you had to touch my ass, right?''

Lovino nearly agreed, catching himself just in time, only to blush again. ''You...you _saccente_! You pompous _stronzo_! I did no such thing!'' He childishly stuck out his tongue and and dashed inside the safety of the apartment, locking the door behind him. Antonio, far from being distressed, doubled over in laughter; pushing Lovino's buttons was just too much fun. He felt, though, considering the current state of affairs, as if he had known Lovino for a long time. It was as if the two of them had just clicked, like those two paired puzzle pieces that never seem to find each other until the very end. Antonio felt it was a shame that Lovino was going through the creeping issue, but he knew that he would be there for Lovino in every step of the way. There was just something about the Italian, hidden beneath the rough profanity and rudeness, that needed protection. Whatever that was, Antonio would do anything to keep it safe.

After a few minutes of tension-filled waiting on Antonio's part, for he had nothing better to do, a window creaked open. A curl appeared, displaying the identity of the man hiding inside. ''...For your information, you narcissistic Spaniard, your ass is not that fine.'' And with that, the window was shut, and the sound of the lock unbolting could be heard. Antonio happily cheered and pumped a fist in success before running the door.

_ Oh, yes, this would be fun_, he concluded.

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**...That was quite the long haul. I hope everyone thought it was satisfactory after the long wait.**

**Now, on to the acknowledgements!**

**Flamingspain-**Thanks for being the first review! Its always the first that make me dance around my room to know that someone is actually reading it. You are awesome!

**5star101**-Yay! I actually had an original idea! Thanks for pointing that out! It's reviews like these that keep me writing when im in a bleak mood. Thanks for reading!

**Loretta-**Thank you much for making me laugh! Your review just brightens my day; it awesome and humbling to see your writing be praised so happily. Thanks!

**Kura-Of-the-Akasuki**-And here is the continuation that you requested :) I hope it is still interesting. Thanks for reviewing!

**Spamano4ever-**I hope this turns out as awesome as you say it looks; that is what I'm hoping for. Thanks for the review!

**Resha04-**I'm so glad that you found this to be funny! I was hoping that it would make at least someone laugh as much as I do when I read some brilliant fanfics on this site. Thanks for laughing-this review made my day!

**The Gargoyle Alchemist**-Thank you so much for the complements. I didn't exactly mean for such a POV switch to happen; it just flowed from this crazy head of mine onto the computer screen. Thanks for noticing, and sorry that it was a little confusing. I'll try harder to be more precise in the future (or just make my wacked mind follow some semblance of order).

**The review button is a little farther down the page, just in case you were interested.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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